


Blue Morning (Main Snippet)

by PhoenixDragon



Series: Blue Morning Excerpts [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Dark, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Psychological Drama, Psychological Torture, Serious Dub-Con, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just wanted a taste of what others had touched so briefly on. Then to just show him what power was. Then what the Doctor could never have. What they could never have. A relationship based on power given and taken, love and hatred one and the same. But how will it end?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Morning (Main Snippet)

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** I wasn't going to, but I figured - aww what the hell! Right? Right. Move forward at your own risk: Unbeta'd; Angsty-smuttiness; Dub-con (bordering on non-con); **heavily implied** Rory/11 (okay, some kissing involved) and of course, Rory/Amy. Written for my own pleasure, but encouraged by **lonewytch** and **STJRA**. Thanks guys! You Forever have my Love!  
>  **A/N2:** Orginally posted at Livejournal June 24, 2011  
>  **Warning:** Spoilers up to AGMGtW (AU after), Dark!Fic, Angst, Torture, Explicit Sexual Situations, Dub-Con/Non-Con  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these awesome (and brilliant) characters - that pleasure is solely the BBC, BBC Worldwide and that ever-mad and fantastic Troll-King, Moffat. I only own the fiction you see here. Not making money...please do not sue!

He loved kissing him - hot messy clashing of teeth and tongues against the warm hum of the console room walls; shirt rucked up over his slender hips, bracers hanging around his thighs, long legs spread for balance as Rory rutted against his hip.

He kept the sword where the Doctor could see it, less a threat and more of a promise - pleased at the way the TimeLord's eyes kept track of it, no matter what Rory was doing at that moment. A Centurian he wanted - a Centurian he'd get; even if this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind...

  


**O-O-O**  


He nipped at The Doctor's lips until they parted, the surrender a mutinously silent one, his body braced and rigid against Rory's every touch. The stubborn set of the TimeLord's jaw made it hard to get full contact with his lips, but Rory was used to such fire - he was Amy's husband after all.

He bit down on the soft flesh of the Doctor's lower lip, the coppery tang of blood sharp and primally satisfying. They both knew who had the upper hand in this game - Rory had the sword to prove it. He raised the tip of the sharpened steel to the base of the other man's throat, leaving it to rest lightly (ever so lightly) against the red satin of his bowtie, pleased when the Doctor's breathing quickened, his body giving into instinct, trying to lean away from the immediate threat.

'Resist,' Rory whispered, taking advantage of the other man's momentary lapse to lean in and nuzzle under his jaw. 'You know how much I love that...give me that fire, let me feel your _rage_ , TimeLord.'

The Doctor's breathing became hitching gasps, the stiff lines of his shoulders going slack , head thumping back into the console wall as he let all fight drain away, giving himself over to Rory's will. The TARDIS hummed in reponse, the sound desolate as Rory folded to temptation, the point of his sword sliding beneath the taut material of the tie, slicing cleanly through the satin as though it was butter.

At some point the Doctor had close his eyes, lashes a dusty line against the ashen pale of his skin, face immobile, unreadable in the dim shadows thrown by the main console. Rory swallowed back a sudden bite of fear -

_Gesturing at his executioner, his killer - miming a gun being raised before tilting towards the coming blast - head bowed, whole being still as stone as he waited for the end_

\- the rage that followed easier to handle, more welcome. He couldn't love this man, he couldn't even hate him. He couldn't feel anything - he _shouldn't_.

This creature was Amy's friend, her Raggedy Doctor, a shadow that loomed over their lives and sucked everything that was AmyandRory, RoryandAmy away slowly until only He stood there. He was always there. And he was dangerous, he was destructive -

_maddening, gorgeous, terrifying, awful, ancient, young, loving, wrathful, smart, idiotic, scary, warm, horrifying, innocent, steady, insane and_

\- a blight upon the happiness of those he supposedly held dear.

The loose ends of the bowtie dangled like tattered war banners, crimson and mournful against the creased material of his shirt. His whole being looked naked and vulnerable - the bow a useless knot of crumpled satin, bracers hanging like tired cobwebs from his hips -

Still as stone.

And Rory...he wasn't suppose to feel sad and frightened by this. This man, this being, this _TimeLord_ , shaped their lives with a forty-five minute visit to a little girl who turned into a woman who was to have a child of her own.

And because of him, in _spite_ of him - they had both lost her. She had made them what they were now, because he had made her what she was then - a thought that was as enraging as it was awe-inspiring. If he had never been, if he had never eaten fish custard in that lonely girl's kitchen long ago, would Rory have even had her to lose?

And did any of it matter?

'Let us speak,' he whispered, intimate, cool and heartbroken, 'of penance TimeLord. And of what we share that neither of us can actually have.'  



End file.
